Just the other day, a close friend of mine called up. “Sunita,” she said hesitantly, “ I want to talk to you about my son, Rohit. He has suddenly changed so much. I don’t know what to do.” I calmed her down and told her this is something I often hear from parents of adolescents
It is not easy being a parent. And the challenge is much more when our babies turn into teenagers. It seems just yesterday they were holding your hand and learning to walk, and now it seems as if they are challenging every word you say.
You hear things like , “Why do you want me to make my bed? I’ll just sleep in it again tonight.” “MOM! Please don’t embarrass me!”
Your little baby girl is suddenly more interested in chatting with her friends and worrying about nonexistent pimples on her face. Your son is more interested in his friends’ opinion than yours. And don’t talk about mood swings. One day they do not want to talk to you at all and the next they want to tell you every single thing that is happening in their lives. If you hug them, you will be pushed away and the very next day you will be engulfed in the biggest bear hug in the world.
Yes, being a parent is tough and in today’s environment it is even worse. As parents we are not only responsible to see that our kids grow up with the right values, but we also need to equip them with the skills that will help them withstand negative influences and keep them safe.
In such a scenario, maybe it is a good idea to learn from the experts as well. People who have been parents, who have been teachers and who have been teachers to parents. That is why, through practise with my own daughters, through a lot of reading, through courses, I have learnt a lot and over a lot of years, what it takes to be a good parent. I have realised through the years that parents of teenagers face some unique challenges.
That is how and why I created my Teenology course. Ping me here or on 9892939062/ 8080825785 to know more about it. You can send me a mail on email@example.com as well. https://www.facebook.com/events/531112666958273/
We reached the garden. You saw the gigantic metal giraffe painted in red and yellow and green. Colours designed to attract every little soul who entered the garden. Without warning you left my hand and ran to the giraffe. Before I realised, your feet were on the first rungs of the bars that made it up. And you started climbing. I don’t really know how tall that thing was. But to my fear numbed brain, it seemed at least 10 feet high. And there you were… a tiny little thing, just past your second birthday, trying to climb up as fast as you could.
I wanted to shout and call you back down, when I caught your father’s eye and he just shook his head to stop me. I understood what he meant. We had made a pact that we would never stop you from exploring, from learning by doing. We had promised ourselves that we would give you the freedom to grow, to fly, to touch the sky. And now that it seemed that you were actually trying to reach for the sky, I could only stand there paralysed with fear, watching you as you climbed higher and higher. And as you reached higher, all that I could think of was that it was a longer way to fall. I had visions of broken bones and worse.
Dad in the meantime positioned himself beneath the monster, encouraging you and telling you where to place your feet. His presence there gave you the confidence to go right to the very top, secure in the knowledge that Daddy was there to catch you if you fell. You finally reached the top and squealed with delighted laughter. I could not help but laugh with you, as tears streamed down my face.
You climbed back down with Dad guiding you and the minute you reached the ground, I swooped you up into a hug that hid all my anxiety. And then so sweetly and innocently you asked me, “Mamma, why are you crying?” I answered you with what I now realise was the truth, “Because I am so proud of you.”